


A Name for Two

by littlepurinsesu, lovelygallows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), 君の名は。| Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Awkward Romance, Bodyswap, Comedy, Drama, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Eventual Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Identity Swap, Kimi no Na wa AU, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Friendships - Freeform, Other Implied Couples, Pining, Romance, Swearing, Time Travel, Your Name AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlepurinsesu/pseuds/littlepurinsesu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelygallows/pseuds/lovelygallows
Summary: By some twist of fate, Yuuri Katsuki is forced to live the life of a rude and angry teenager pining for his best friend, and Yuri Plisetsky is stuck in the awkward body of an insecure but obliviously charismatic young man with an idiot for a lover. Neither is amused, but their unlikely friendship could be the key to rewriting history and bringing about a miracle.Your Name/Kimi no Na Wa AU.





	1. That's My Name

**Author's Note:**

> littlepurinsesu: My friend and I have been wanting to do a collab for a while now, and we've finally come up with a way that will allow us to write a story together while making the most of our distinct writing styles to convey two different voices. The planning process was long and confuzzling but so exciting, and writing the actual story is going to be even more of a blast from here, so hopefully you all enjoy and stick with us to the end! I thank the glory of Shower Inspiration for this idea. Showers are amazing, guys. Take a shower, and be inspired.
> 
> lovelygallows: First time working on a collab! I'm really excited about the idea that littlepurinsesu came up with, even though all that timey-wimey stuff was quite difficult to work out. If we see this through to the very end (I sure hope we do, I mean we have the last chapters planned out already!), this will be the longest fic I will have written and also the biggest project ever. There is a time to take on big projects and THAT TIME IS NOW.

Once in a while, when he wakes up, he finds himself crying.

It’s not like him to cry, but he’s been doing that an awful lot nowadays.

He cannot remember the dream he must have had, but he’s left with blurry images of an unfamiliar ice rink, the cheerful laughter of friends he does not recall making, and the warm embrace of a lover that he cannot call his own.

The sensation that he’s lost something important, and the certainty that he’s always searching. For something, for someone.

But he remembers that day.

Vaguely.

That day when the crowd erupted and the skaters accepted bouquets tossed onto the rink as the show came to an end.

He, too, had applauded from the stands. And he knew that one day, it would be his turn to skate in front of a cheering audience as they chanted his name.

_‘"Yuri! Yuri! Yuri!"_

Yes. How wonderful his name would sound, filling the arena as his dream unfolded before his eyes.

_"Yuri! Yurio! Yurio!"_

Wait, Yurio?

"Yurio."

There was a gentle tap on his left shoulder, so light that he almost missed it, and he turned to meet a pair of nervous brown eyes behind blue-rimmed glasses.

The young man before him had a certain refined charm in his delicate features, but although he was about a head taller, his face was riddled with anxiety as he gazed shyly at him.

"Yurio?" he called again. "Um… It’s me."

_Who?_

"Don’t you remember me?"

_No._

There was a beat.

"Who are you?"

A small gasp escaped the man’s lips, barely audible, and he turned away dejectedly. "I’m sorry…" His face was flushed, voice timid, and he looked and sounded hurt for some inexplicable reason.

And then the crowd began to move.

The show was over.

The bespectacled man kept his head down as he turned to leave with the dispersing crowd.

"Hey, asshole!"

Their eyes met once more as the man spun on the spot.

"What’s your name?"

They had only a fraction of a second as the audience members moved to file out the doors. There was a flash of determination on his face, and the man reached forward and pressed a CD case into his hand, calling out as the crowd began to push him along with their impatient steps.

"Yuuri! My name is Yuuri!"

He barely caught the plastic case, and by the time he looked up again, the young man had disappeared.

What did the man say his name was again? Yuu… Yuri?

_Huh?! Wait, what the fuck? That’s my name!_

He remembers his strange fondness for that encounter, and the blurry images and tingling sensations he’s left with when he wakes from another forgotten fantasy.

Even now, he looks down at the clear CD case in his hands and the neat handwriting etched onto the disc in black ink: _In Regards to Love: Agape_. He wonders about the peculiar voice calling his name in his sleep, and another life he feels he may have lived at some other point in time.

These feelings have possessed him, he thinks, from that day. That day when he saw the news coverage of the fire burning the ice rink to ashes.

And as he watched the flames being put out, he thought to himself how it was almost as if something in him had faded with the embers.

But he knows that it’s nothing more, nothing less than a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a prologue instead of an actual chapter, but since AO3 won't allow it, it's now Chapter 1. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. A Day Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lovelygallows: My first chapter! Here's where the action really gets going :D I had a lot of fun writing Phichit, and Victor, as I was chatting with littlepurinsesu, is quite a flexible character, but also complex and difficult to pin down. So please let us know what you think, and we hope you enjoy this chapter!

Yuuri Katsuki hates mornings.

But this morning had to be one of the worst. Ever.

As usual, his movements are sluggish and his mind is groggy as he emerges from sleep to wakefulness. But right now, he thinks he probably just woke up from a particularly exhausting dream, and it’s like he hadn’t slept at all.

He groans and rubs at his face.

It’s just as well that he never remembers his dreams, though, or it would probably be even more disorienting.

He glances at his clock, and jerks upright.

It’s nearly noon.

And he has slept through most of his morning class.

Why didn’t he set his alarm last night? He always sets his alarm. Even though he’s already in university, the lingering fear of running late has never quite faded since high school.

He lunges toward his bedside table for his glasses, only to find empty space instead.

_Eh?_

Growing more frantic by the second, he springs out of bed… to do what, he’s not even sure anymore.

Then he hears a sickening crunch under his feet, and looks down to see his blue-rimmed glasses snapped in two.

His distressed cry could be heard through the whole household.

 

 

He hadn’t thought things could get any worse after that, but somehow, they do.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” his father greets him as he looks up from his newspaper. “Oh, you’re wearing contact lenses today, too.”

Too? Yuuri’s pretty sure he hadn’t worn contact lenses in quite a long time. He usually prefers to stick with his glasses. Unless it’s an emergency, like today.

But now’s not the time to worry about that. He needs to get to the university. Where he should have been since two hours ago.

After exchanging a few quick words with his family, he decides that he has no choice but to skip breakfast, grabs a piece of toast and starts for the door.

“Why are you in a hurry, Yuuri?” his sister calls after him from the dining table. “Isn’t your class in the afternoon?”

_Eh?_

“No, my Monday class is on mornings,” Yuuri replies. Which was a bad idea, by the way. He always gets Monday blues after the weekend.

Mari’s brows furrowed, but it’s his mother who reminds him, “But honey, today’s Tuesday.”

“Ehhhhh?!”

 

 

“Nice look,” Phichit comments as he snaps a picture of Yuuri, who has just arrived at their classroom and joined him, Leo and Guang Hong.

Yuuri groans, but cannot find the energy to do anything other than sagging down onto a chair, slumping on the desk and burying his face in his arms. Might as well get some much-needed shut-eye while they’re waiting for their class to start. The class which is, in fact, in the afternoon rather than morning.

“It’s not as if you haven’t seen me without my glasses before,” he mumbles. He loves his best friend, really, but Phichit’s obsession with photography and documenting the life and times of his peers can be a bit much sometimes. Like right now, when Yuuri knows he must look like a wreck.

Between breaking his glasses and finding out today’s not actually the day he thought it was, and adding the inconvenient lack of sleep, he wouldn’t be surprised if he currently has dark circles under his eyes. And he feels naked without his glasses to shield him from the rest of the world.

Noticing his despondency, Phichit pokes him gently. “Hey, what’s up, man? You were being all weird yesterday, too.”

Again, there’s this feeling that has been bothering Yuuri ever since he woke up this morning. The nagging sensation that he’s missing something big.

He looks at his three friends. “… Yesterday?” He’s not sure he wants to know, but feels the need to ask.

“Yeah, when you talked back to that guest speaker,” Guang Hong replies casually.

“When I _what_?!”

“You got so mad!” Leo chimes in. “What was up with that, by the way? You left before we could ask.”

“Guys… I d-don’t… remember any of that.” Yuuri can feel himself starting to panic over this inexplicable and terrifying lapse in his memory, but manages to control his voice enough to ask, “What happened?”

He expects disbelief from his friends, but their faces only show confusion that quickly gives way to concern.

Leo is the one to start, “Well, we thought you were acting strange ever since you got to the seminar, because you didn’t come sit with us. Or even Seung Gil.”

“Yeah, you went straight to the back of the lecture hall and sat alone,” Guang Hong confirms, nodding.

Phichit thinks for a moment, hand under his chin, “Actually, I guess that’s why the guest speaker picked you. He was going around the whole room, asking students to talk, getting them to _participate_ –” Phichit adds air quotes, “– and to be honest, I think a lot of people were getting annoyed.”

“Just a little,” Guang Hong admits sheepishly.

Leo continues, “But dude, I don’t think we’ve ever seen you _that_ angry.”

“It’s kind of like you were an entirely different person. You just… exploded,” Phichit concludes.

_Good god._ Yuuri doesn’t think he can handle any more shocking revelations today.

But then a thought occurs to him. He slowly raises his head from the desk.

“Phichit,” he starts hesitantly, dreading the answer. “Is there any chance that you _didn’t_ take pictures… of me?”

“Oh no, I didn’t take pictures, I filmed it!” As Phichit’s fingers fly across his phone, Yuuri thinks his heart just about stops.

“Hey, no fair, we held back!” Leo and Guang Hong protest in unison.

Phichit waves his hand without looking at them, “Oh hush, I hold seniority over you two. Here, Yuuri, see for yourself.” And with that, he turns the screen towards Yuuri.

Yuuri takes the device with trembling hands as the video starts playing, barely hearing Leo and Guang Hong’s half-hearted grumbling and Phichit’s disappointed _Too bad I didn’t catch the beginning_.

Though the camera is far away from the main action, there’s no mistaking the small figure in the damning video – _himself_ , oh god – making a scene in the lecture hall. With growing horror, he watches himself lashing out at the speaker, hurling insult after insult at the poor man, just as Phichit described, before viciously kicking a chair and finally storming out.

And what’s worse, he remembers _none_ of this. It’s like watching someone else parade around in his body.

When the video finally ends after an eternity, Yuuri sighs and lets his head fall back onto the desk with a _thunk_ , wishing the ground would just swallow him up.

“I’m done for.”

Phichit pats him on the head.

 

 

Normally, ice skating helps clear Yuuri’s mind.

But it’s not really working today.

He often comes to Ice Castle, one of his favorite places in the world, to wind down after school. Technically, the local ice rink is closed to the public today, but after taking one look at Yuuri’s haggardness, his friend Yuuko let him in.

As he goes through his version of restlessly pacing on the ice, he tries to make sense of the events that had transpired since yesterday.

In addition to the scandalous episode that Phichit caught on film, he can’t stop thinking about the mysterious writing that he later found in his books. His textbook is strewn with question marks, doodles, and the occasional “I don’t fucking understand any of this” here and there. And finally, in one of his notebooks, in what he’s pretty sure is not any of his friends’ handwriting, are the words: “Who the hell are you?”

It’s all very overwhelming and more than a little worrying.

Yuuri racks his brain for possible explanations. Memory loss would be the most straightforward answer, but that doesn’t explain his over-the-top behavior in the afternoon seminar. And yes, it _is_ over-the-top.

“-ri.”

Could it be that he’s losing his mind?

“Yuuri.”

He’s starting to find Phichit’s musings of demonic possession or alien abduction more comforting.

_“Yuuri!”_

Startled out of his thoughts, Yuuri spins around to find none other than his boyfriend standing on the ice before him.

“V-Victor!”

He should have known that he’d run into Victor here. As an exchange student two years older than Yuuri, Victor’s courses are mostly different from his, so he hadn’t seen Victor on campus today. But he does work as a coach here at Ice Castle. Or at least he did, before he gave up his part-time job to focus solely on coaching Yuuri. And while Yuuri is immensely pleased and flattered at such attention, he still couldn’t help but irrationally feel that he’s somehow hogging Victor.

Maybe it was a mistake to come here this evening. He’s only just beginning to accept the fact that, for whatever reason, he lost a day of his life, and is trying very hard not to freak out about it. He needs some time alone to try to figure things out, and Victor is… well, Victor. Dramatic and distracting and too _much_ , and yet… he’s all Yuuri has ever needed.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor calls while he skates in circles around Yuuri, long and drawn out in what would have been a whine in anyone else, but he manages to sound adorable. Or maybe Yuuri is biased. “You’re ignoring me again!”

Again? Ignore Victor Nikiforov? Him?

This is getting really serious, because right now, Victor seems to be upset, and it’s most likely because of something Yuuri has done.

Victor suddenly stops skating and just stares at him.

_Oh no._ Whatever happened yesterday, please _please_ don’t let it ruin what he has with Victor. Their relationship is fragile enough as it is –

“I can’t help it, Yuuri! You’re just too _cute_ without your glasses!” Victor throws his arms around Yuuri and starts nuzzling against his cheek. Immediately, Yuuri could feel his face burning up. They’ve been together for a few months, but he still has yet to get used to Victor’s open displays of affection, because Victor’s always so _sincere_ and Yuuri has a hard time taking it all in.

“Of course,” Victor continues, oblivious to Yuuri’s inner turmoil, “you’re always cute, but this is a different kind of cute.” He murmurs in Yuuri’s ear, “You look _hot_.” It sends chills down Yuuri’s spine, and he can only manage to stammer incoherently in response.

But to his confusion, Victor quickly lets go of him, as though he’s worried that he might make Yuuri… uncomfortable? Which is odd, because Victor usually drapes himself all over him for much longer, and deep down, Yuuri really does like it, even though he isn’t the best at reciprocating Victor’s loving gestures.

“That’s it. I’m confiscating your glasses from now on!” Victor announces with a grin on his face.

“Eh?! But Victor!” Yuuri cries, almost dizzy from trying to catch up with the swift changes in Victor’s mood. But then he realizes that Victor’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which is just _wrong_ , because Victor’s smile ought to always be genuine.

“On second thought, keep the glasses, because I want to be the only one allowed to clearly see these lovely eyes of yours,” Victor decides, kissing both of Yuuri’s eyelids, but again pulling away all too soon, leaving Yuuri missing his warmth.

“Anyhow, can I go to your place today?” Victor asks, switching the subject.

Wait, Victor never asks about this. Has never had to, actually, because Yuuri can _never_ say no to him.

“I still haven’t recovered from what you said yesterday, you know? In fact, I might not ever recover,” Victor declares as he holds his hands against his chest and slumps right onto the ice.

_Oh dear._

Much to Yuuri’s dismay, he sees that there’s actually _hurt_ in Victor’s eyes, in spite of his usual antics. And what’s worse, Yuuri is the one who put it there.

He gets on his knees beside Victor, and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I… I wasn’t f-feeling well,” Yuuri cringes internally at his lame excuse. He doesn’t even know what actually happened between the two of them the day before, but it sounds awful so he’s too afraid to ask. And now he feels bad for lying. “Please get up, or you’ll feel cold,” he pleads, shaking Victor slightly.

Victor sighs dramatically, but he does stand back up. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong, but only when you feel like talking, okay?” he requests, holding Yuuri’s gaze.

Yuuri nods silently, grateful for Victor’s understanding, but feeling even guiltier for not being honest. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Victor; on the contrary, he wants to be able to tell his boyfriend about everything. But he doesn’t want Victor to worry for him any more than he already does.

He feels a wave of relief wash over him when Victor smiles and holds out his hand. “So, shall we go home now?” Victor asks, finally looking happier.

Yuuri finds himself smiling back.

“Yes, let’s go.”

As they head for the edge of the rink, he promises himself that he’ll tell Victor when he has come up with a semi-decent explanation. But as of now, there doesn’t seem to be much that he can do, except to pray to whatever deities who would listen that it doesn’t happen ever again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Yuuri dear, your prayers will go unanswered...


	3. Back to Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> littlepurinsesu: Now Yurio's story has officially started, too! Like lovelygallows mentioned in her first chapter, I was surprised to find that the side characters were SO MUCH FUN to write! (I'm looking at you, JJ.) This chapter also turned out a lot more Otayuri-centric than I originally planned, but I guess that just means more Otayuri action for everyone xD Thank you to everyone who has already expressed interest in this story - hopefully this update was worth the wait! <3

The music begins, angelic vocals filling the empty rink as he glides gracefully across the ice.

_Goddamnit._

He’s still not feeling it.

After an infuriating day filled with stupid questions about behavior he has no recollection of, unconditional love is the last thing on Yuri Plisetsky’s mind at the moment.

First, he had shown up to school with the wrong books because he had somehow managed to get the day of the week wrong; then he was ambushed by practically the entire class with queries on quadratics, since he’d apparently become a superstar mathematician the previous day; and at lunchtime, Michele Crispino had apologized gruffly for hurting his feelings, Yuri being informed that he had looked genuinely wounded yesterday when Michele called him an “ignorant brat.”

As far as Yuri is concerned, his Monday had disappeared to god-knows-where, and he is now left with terrifying accounts of a person who is not him at all. Yuri Plisetsky not firing back at an insult directed at him? The mere thought itself was preposterous.

Yuri guesses he could wave off his apparent memory loss as the side effects of exhaustion, since, come to think of it, he is feeling rather lethargic today. He doesn’t remember when he went to sleep the night before, or if he even slept at all… But he must have, if he woke up in his bed this morning. The first sign that something was wrong should have occurred to him when he didn’t open his eyes to find his face buried in soft cat fur. Why hadn’t Puma Tiger Scorpion slept in his bed last night? What the fuck is going on?

“Aw, Yuri! Still practicing that program?”

He hears the irritating woman before he sees her.

“What do you want, Mila?” he sighs.

The redhead is leaning casually against the rink boards, observing as Yuri gradually slows to a stop on the ice.

“I’m just a bit surprised, is all,” Mila comments offhandedly. “You finally got that step sequence yesterday; Lilia even managed an actual smile. But today you seem to have gone back to square one.”

“Huh?”

That frustratingly difficult step sequence he had been working on for months to no avail?

“It was pretty weird, to be honest,” she continues. “You kept failing all your best jumps, and everything was kinda off, but you really did nail that step sequence. It was practically perfect.”

“I _what_?!” Yuri isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating this conversation. “I don’t even remember skating at all yesterday!” He doesn’t even remember doing _anything_ yesterday, actually.

“Oh, you sure did!” A deep voice interrupts them as Georgi enters, dropping his bag onto an empty chair. “It was beautiful, the way you finally captured that feeling of agape… I could have sworn that angels had descended and were guiding your every move!” Yuri thinks he can see Georgi’s eyes shimmer with the onset of proud tears, and he isn’t sure whether he should feel flattered, disgusted, or plain fucking confused. “I’ve always liked that song you skate to. _Regarding Love: Agape_ , was it?”

“ _In Regards to Love: Agape_. Get it right, dumbass,” Yuri grumbles. The teen has always felt abnormally attached to this song. Which is ridiculous, really, considering he didn’t write the piece or even particularly like it. An orchestral arrangement of heavenly prayers and a divine selfless love for all? Yuri would much rather be rocking out to some hardcore heavy-metal music. So why does he still insist on toiling away every afternoon, trying to perfect something that he doesn’t even fucking like?

“—seriously so beautiful!” Georgi is still gushing, as Yuri slowly emerges from his self-interrogation. “I’ve never seen you skate the way you did yesterday, Yuri. Sure, the technique was subpar, but we all know you’re an amazing skater, so it might have just been one of those days. The point is that you finally got the right _feeling_ down! Did you finally find your agape?”

“Actually, he’s lost it again,” Mila informs Georgi, before Yuri can open his mouth and offer a snappish response. “You missed his skate just now, but it was almost like yesterday never happened. Back to being a flawless skating machine with zero feelings of love.”

“Can you shut it, hag?”

Yuri’s head is swimming again. Sure, this revelation might not be as shocking as hearing that he had somehow allowed himself to actually appear wounded by Michele’s insult, but Yuri has just about had enough.

Maybe it’s time to head home, flop onto his bed, and sleep the rest of the day away and hope that tomorrow will bring him some normality.

Yuri steps off the ice and drops himself into the nearest chair, yanking off his skates.

“You’re leaving already?” asks Mila.

“What does it fucking look like? Getting out of here before any of you can spew more crap about weird ass things I apparently did yesterday.”

“But Yakov wanted to go over the program with you—”

“Tell him I’m not feeling well.” Yuri ignores Mila’s concerned expression as he finishes lacing up his leopard-print sneakers, zips his bag closed, and swings it over his shoulder.

“He’s not going to be happy…” Georgi cautions.

“You think I give a fuck?”

Yuri begins stomping his way out but is stopped short when he sees two familiar faces conversing outside.

_What are they doing here?_

The automatic glass doors slide open, and he’s met with possibly the world’s most obnoxious greeting.

“Yuri-chan! You finished earlier than we expected!”

“Why the fuck are you here?” Yuri makes sure the accusation is directed at Jean-Jacques only, and not the expressionless man standing beside him.

“ _That’s_ my Yuri-chan!” exclaims the addressed man. “Just wanted to make sure one more time that everything was fine!” he adds defensively, when he sees Yuri’s brows knitting closer and closer together. “I mean, hearing you respond that way to me can only mean that you really are back to normal now!”

Back to normal? Has he ever been _not_ normal? Fuck, what was even _normal_ for him?

“Just answer the fucking question, JJ.”

“Okay, okay.” JJ puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Otabek is still super worried about your behavior yesterday. And even though you’re pretty much back to the Yuri we know and love now and nothing weird happened at school today, he still wanted to make sure you really were fine before you went home. Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

“Jean,” the other man warns.

But Yuri had felt his heart skip a beat at JJ’s offhand remark. “You’re really that worried?” he asks, turning to Otabek.

It amazes even Yuri himself how much his own voice can fluctuate when speaking to his two closest friends. Not that he considers JJ a close friend or anything. The shameless man had latched himself onto the perfectly harmonious duo on the first day of the semester, and even now, he has refused to renounce his position in the newly-formed trio.

“Would it be an inconvenience if I were to accompany you on your walk home?” Otabek asks politely, a small but sincere smile on his angular face.

“Yes!” Yuri says a little too quickly. “I mean, no, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience…”

“Awww, is our little Yuri-chan blushing?”

“JJ, I swear to god—”

“Alright, alright, peace!” JJ adjusts his backpack before continuing, “I, unfortunately, won’t be able to join you guys. Izzy and I have a date.”

“Thank fucking god. Now get the fuck out of my face and spare us the torture of having to continue listening to your stupid voice.” Yuri waves his hand dismissively, “Poor Isabella. How does she put up with you on a daily basis?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that JJ is The King, and The King’s presence is in constant high demand. Also,” JJ adds, before Yuri can snort and spit in his face, “as for putting up with me on a daily basis, you already do that yourself. And you do a pretty good job of it! Keep up the good work! Toodles!”

Otabek manages to still Yuri with a simple touch to his shoulder, and JJ takes the chance to march away victoriously, turning back only to offer one final, cheeky wave.

“Urgh, why do we continue to tolerate that nuisance? He’s impossible!” Yuri complains once JJ is well out of earshot.

Otabek offers a lopsided smile as the two begin to walk in the direction of Yuri’s house. “Jean may be loud and playful and a little overbearing, but he is a kind man with a good heart, and I treasure his friendship.”

“But Beka…” Yuri whines, and he stops himself when he hears just how ridiculous—how _childish_ —he sounds. Why couldn’t he ever be the mature and poised young man he wished to be in Otabek’s eyes?

“I’d say you don’t really hate him as much as you’d like to believe, Yura,” Otabek says, articulating each word as carefully as possible and studying Yuri’s face, as though searching for signs of offense or anger.

Yuri responds with a huff and says nothing more, looking away at the setting sun in the distance. The sky is a breathtaking gradient of orange and royal blue, and the tranquility provides Yuri with some much-needed peace after all the bullshit he went through today.

A comfortable silence falls between the two. Yuri has always liked that about Otabek. He’s a man of very few words, and the ones he does utter are always so sincere, so genuine. But mostly, Yuri can spend an entire afternoon sitting beside Otabek in complete silence and still feel that it was time well-spent. Otabek’s mere presence is enough to calm him down during his frequent outbursts, and Yuri couldn’t imagine going a day without this man there to ground him and keep him—

“Yura?”

Yuri’s head snaps up to meet Otabek’s worried face. “Yes?” He intends to sound casual, but his voice comes out sounding more like a disoriented frog.

Otabek smiles, relieved. “I lost you for a second there. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes! Fine! Swell!” Yuri lies. But he knows it’s futile. No lie he told, black or white, could ever get past Otabek. He sighs. “I mean… well, kind of? Fuck, I don’t even know anymore.”

Otabek places his hand on Yuri’s shoulder again, and this time, it lingers for a little longer, its touch even more gentle than before. Yuri’s breath hitches in his throat. “I don’t really know what happened yesterday, but you seemed to become very timid and sensitive, for some reason. We didn’t have much downtime to really ask you about everything, since we had a full day of classes, but is something bothering you?” Here, Otabek pauses, and averts his gaze in favor of staring at the horizon up ahead. “If there’s something on your mind, I want you to know that I will always be here to listen or help out.” He blinks quickly before adding, “Jean, too. You know he’s really worried about you as well.”

_Way to ruin the moment, idiot._

Yuri snorts. “All that shithead’s any good at is getting a daily tick on his ‘How to Piss off Yuri Plisetsky’ checklist. If I fucking rip his neck off one day, you’re gonna have to be there to bail me out of jail, Beka.” He allows himself a tiny smile and a resigned roll of his eyes, and he thinks he can hear a slight chortle coming from the man walking beside him. “But really, I’m fine. It’s just… Look, Beka, I really have no idea what the fuck happened yesterday, and, to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember a single fucking thing, either.” Here, he dares to turn and look Otabek in the eyes, mustering all of his courage to speak the next words without flinching at himself. “I really appreciate you… well, you guys… for wanting to help. I really do. But since everything that happened really wasn’t like me… do you think we could maybe forget about any of the shit I apparently did, and pretend they never happened? I mean, it’s only been a day, and I’m already sick of all the shitty questions and people coddling me like I’m some oversensitive crybaby. Because I’m not.”

Yuri loosens the fists he hadn’t realized he’d been clenching, and sees Otabek’s eyes narrow with even greater concern.

“I’m okay, I promise. Just… it was a one-off thing, and whether or not that really was me doesn’t matter anymore now. I’m back to normal, so can… can everything else just go back to normal?”

Otabek remains silent for a few seconds, and for the first time in a while, Yuri feels a tinge of unease in their usually calming silence.

Finally, Otabek sighs. “Alright. Okay. If that’s what you want,” he holds Yuri’s gaze softly, “then I trust you.”

Yuri feels his heart swell with gratitude and another strange feeling that he’s been experiencing around his best friend lately, but hasn’t quite been able to name yet. “Thanks, Beka. You’re the best.” And he means it.

By now, the pair have reached Yuri’s house, and the distance between them lengthens as he goes to open the gate. “Do you… want to come in for a bit? We could play Mario Kart again.”

But Otabek gives him a tender smile. “Maybe another time, Yura. Today, I want you to get some rest, okay?”

Yuri is disappointed, but he understands. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Otabek confirms.

“And everything will be back to normal?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you could keep that promise, Otabek, I really do...


	4. Wake Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lovelygallows: What's this, an update?! *insert Mushu I LIIIIIVE gif*  
> Apologies for the looong delay. The past couple of months have been a difficult time for me, and when I finally got back to this fic, I had writer's block ugh.  
> Thanks to littlepurinsesu for her constant support both in life and in writing, and thank you to those who may have been waiting patiently for this new chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Yuuri Katsuki blinked his eyes open. He felt… alone.

_Where was everybody?_

Completely unused to the eerie silence, he strained to hear any of the sounds that his family usually made at this hour in the morning – the footsteps of his mother coming upstairs to knock on his door to wake him up, and the lively conversation between his dad and Mari from downstairs.

But now, he heard nothing.

The bed he was lying in did not feel like his own, the blankets softer and the pillow fluffier than what he was used to.

He sat up, and his blond hair fell right in front of his eyes.

Wait. Blond?

_I must be dreaming._

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a full-length mirror. After managing to wriggle out of the mass of blankets, he stumbled towards it.

Standing before him was a complete stranger, with long blond hair that reached just past the chin, pale creamy skin, and blue green eyes filled with as much confusion as he was feeling right now.

Yuuri reached up a hand to touch his cheek, and the reflection – his reflection – in the mirror followed suit.

“I’m… pretty?”

Sometimes, he dreamed of better versions of himself. Thinner, faster, stronger. But now, he didn’t even look like himself anymore. Never, in his wildest imagination, had he ever pictured himself like this—with foreign-looking features, short, thin, almost frail but lithe, much like a cat.

Speaking of felines… He noticed, on the other side of the room, a cat frozen in place and shooting him a baleful glare. The cat, which he now saw was no more than a kitten, looked like a… ragdoll, if he got the term right. And if cats had emotions, this one was the angriest one that he had ever seen.

He wondered when he ever got a cat, or even considered getting one, dog person that he was.

Locking eyes with the creature, he was once again assaulted by a profound sense of displacement that was only possible in the realm of dreams. What threw him off even more was that, at the same time, it all felt too real and vivid to be a dream.

But, as of now, he saw no alternative than to go along with whatever happened, and figure things out in the meantime.

“Let’s see what today brings, then,” Yuuri said out loud.

The kitten hissed.

 

 

Yuuri had thought that dreams were supposed to magically transport one to the next destination. Never had he expected to have to figure out where his school was, and to actually walk there by himself. Not to mention that he was more than a little bit dismayed to find that he was back in high school again. He really didn’t feel like reliving that awkward age, which held none of the glory that people always attached to it.

To be honest, he spent quite some time helplessly wandering about in the streets, since he had never had a good sense of direction. Thank goodness he spotted other students wearing the same uniform as his, and simply followed the crowd.

He probably looked like a mess, though. Since he wasn’t sure what he would need at school, he ended up grabbing a lot of things just in case, so his bags and books were all disorganized as he tried to cling onto them. He didn’t have time to put much care into his appearance, either, with his shirt just a bit rumpled, and a ponytail haphazardly tied up. He briefly considered having his hair cut short the way he liked it, but he was already running late, and besides, he didn’t trust himself with the daunting task of hacking through his currently golden locks with inadequate tools.

But it seemed that his hair stood out either way.

“Hey, Yuri-chan! What’s up with the new hairstyle?”

Yuuri turned expectantly to the sound of his name, hoping to see a familiar face, since he thought that dreams were supposed to feature at least a few people one knew.

But no such luck. Coming up to him were two boys Yuuri had never laid eyes on before, but who were obviously acquainted with him.

“Uh… hi?” he said tentatively.

He found it uncanny that both boys had undercuts, making them seem like twins at first glance. But a closer look revealed that one seemed to be the calm and stoic type, while the other reminded him a little bit of Phichit, but much more hyperactive and dramatic.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna chew me out? For calling you ‘Yuri-chan’?” The boy’s eyes widened incredulously. “That’s what you _always_ do! What happened to Yuri Plisetsky the Russian Punk?”

Pli…? Well, it ended with a “-sky,” so it had a Russian sound to it that matched his appearance. Not for the first time, Yuuri wondered why he was dreaming of himself as a Russian.

The boy’s eyes grew bigger, if that was even possible. “Still no reaction? Yeesh, this is even scarier than when you’re throwing tantrums!”

“… T-Tantrums?” Yuuri echoed.

“Now, now, Jean,” the quiet boy stepped in. “Yura can do as he pleases.” Yura? Sounds like a nickname. They must be close, then.

His attention shifted to Yuuri and the corners of his mouth lifted up just a little. “Good morning,” he said, in a voice much more gentle than his gruff appearance would suggest.

Yuuri instantly decided that he liked this fellow.

“But Otabek,” the boy named Jean practically pouted. “Don’t you think Yuri-chan’s being weird?” He turned to Yuuri again. “You’re so _early_ today! Aren’t you always the last one to come to class?”

 _Well actually, if Yuuri had it his way, he’d probably be the first one there…_ is what he was going to stay, except right at that moment, he bumped into someone as they were walking down the hallway.

“Oh!”

It was a dark-haired girl with tanned skin and purple eyes. If he were the male lead in a shoujo manga, this fated meeting with a lovely lady would have been the start of a beautiful romance.

Except…

“Oi! What have you done to my precious sister?!”

Before Yuuri could even utter a word, he was roughly shoved to the side as he found himself face-to-face with a boy. A _very_ angry boy. Who looked uncannily like a male version of the girl.

“Watch where you’re going, you ignorant brat!”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean it,” Yuuri apologized helplessly, too startled to feel embarrassed at his voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak.

Just then, the boy named Otabek stepped forth and shielded Yuuri with his arm, effectively putting himself between Yuuri and the angry boy. His face betrayed nothing, but there was a hard look in his eyes as he quietly stared down the newcomer.

Before he could say anything, the girl hurriedly cut in, “It’s okay, Mickey.” She moved to physically hold her brother back. “Really, I’m fine.”

“No, it’s not okay, Sara!” Mickey retorted, trying to shake her off. “What if you got hurt?”

Sara’s eyes turned cold. “I said I’m fine, Mickey. Stop being so mean.” She smacked Mickey on the head, making the latter yelp and diffusing the tension somewhat.

“Ooh…scary as always,” Yuuri heard Jean whisper conspiratorially to Otabek, who had backed down from the near-confrontation but had not taken his eyes off Mickey just yet.

Then Sara turned from her chastised brother to smile warmly at Yuuri. “How are you, Yuri?”

“I’m… terribly sorry,” Yuuri hung his head. He really hated being an inconvenience to others. It seemed that it was a fate he could not escape, even in his dreams.

Now he felt the others’ eyes on him, and that made things even worse. He wished he could shrink into himself.

“Ah…” Sara seemed at a loss for words. “Um, yesterday’s math assignment was really difficult, don’t you think?” she exclaimed, a little too loudly, grasping at the change of topic.

“M-Math… assignment?” Yuuri stuttered. He dearly hoped he had already completed it. He’d really rather not be haunted by unfinished assignments, even though he had graduated from high school for a couple of years by now.

“Yeah! I swear, quadratics will be the death of me!” Sara actually looked troubled, as if she could really feel a headache coming on.

“I’ll have you know that JJ is the King of Math!” Jean piped up. Yuuri briefly wondered who JJ was.

“Oh shush, JJ, that’s what you said about English last time,” Sara replied, leaving said boy spluttering.

Quadratics, huh? Yuuri wouldn’t say he’s particularly good at math, but somehow he remembered acing his exams in that particular area back in high school. At least it wasn’t geometry.

“Well, I thought it was okay? Maybe I can help you with it?” he offered, tentatively. He hoped this wouldn’t come back to bite him later, but he really wanted to be useful, especially after bumping into Sara and all.

“Really? Thank you!” Sara beamed. “I’ll see you after class, then.” That seemed to piss Mickey off further, but she silenced him with a stony glare.

Nodding, Yuuri returned his attention to Jean and Otabek, who looked relieved that the conflict was solved, but the dominant emotion on their faces seemed to be… confusion? Otabek’s brow was furrowed and Jean even had his mouth hanging open.

“Yura, are you… all right?” Otabek questioned, reaching out to squeeze Yuuri’s shoulder lightly, his voice laced with concern.

Yuuri appreciated the comforting gesture. “Yeah…” he let out a slightly shaky breath. Behind him, he heard a loud voice calling out the siblings’ names, and turned to see a boy with light brown hair and stubble on his face enveloping them in a group hug.

With a shrug, Yuuri schooled his face into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Um, let’s head to class, shall we?”

 

 

Skating.

After all the confusion in this hectic dream of his, finally here was something familiar and comforting.

Or not.

“Yuri! You messed up your quad salchow again!”

He kept getting yelled at by the coach in this dream.

“Once more!” the coach, whose name was Yakov, bellowed. He was a big man who was partially bald, wearing a felt hat and a perpetually severe expression that did nothing to help endear him to Yuuri.

The unfamiliar ice rink was making Yuuri’s skating suffer as well. It was too big and too fancy, and more importantly, there was no Yuuko cheering him on, no Nishigori bossing him around, and no triplets secretly filming his routines.

Ugh, he never knew one could feel homesick in a dream. It wasn’t every day that he was aware that he was in one, and was even stuck there long enough to get tired of it. Maybe he could try…

He pinched himself.

“Oww…”

He waited.

Nope, still not waking up.

Sighing, he realized that he missed Victor an awful lot. His boyfriend slash coach was much gentler than this Yakov person. Though that didn’t mean he wasn’t harsh, in his own way.

After another round of practice, and getting yelled at some more, Yuuri finally got to take a break. He skated to the side of the rink and barely kept himself from collapsing.

“You should be thankful that Lilia isn’t here today.”

Yuuri turned to see a young woman with wavy auburn hair, whose name was… Mila, was it?

“If she sees you like this, she’ll do _a lot_ more than just shout at you.” Mila mock-shuddered. “You may not make it out alive.”

Yuuri gulped. Even though this was just a dream, he’d really rather stay in one piece.

Mila looked at him strangely with her big blue eyes. “Hey, what’s gotten into you today?”

Before he could answer, he felt himself being spun around and his arms trapped in a firm grip.

“Yuri, my lovely fairy!” The dark-haired young man before him had swooped in out of nowhere, like a bird homing in on its prey. “Have you given any thought on how to best convey your agape?”

Agape? Oh, that must be the theme of the program that Yuuri had been practicing.

“Georgi, you do realize that unconditional love is the last thing our Yuri’s ever gonna feel?” Mila interjected, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“My dear Mila!” the man gasped. “Don’t be like that! Surely, unconditional love is present in every soul! In every single one of us!” He focused his intense gaze on Yuuri again. “You just have to _discover_ it, little one! _Exhume_ it from the depths of that cynical heart of yours!”

Yuuri had thought it a bit rude to call anyone a “drama queen,” but there was no better way to describe this boisterous Georgi fellow. Why was this dream filled with dramatic people? It made everything that much more exhausting.

“Try it again with music this time! I’ll help you thaw your frozen heart!” Georgi announced, finally letting go of Yuuri in favor of spreading his arms out wide to emphasize his point.

“As if things will be any less disastrous than last time,” Mila deadpanned.

There it was again, that constant reminder of some past failure. Yuuri wished he could be free from that, at least for a little while in his dreams.

But even so, he was determined to try his best all the same.

He had been practicing and failing his moves for several hours straight, but he hoped, at least, he could get the feeling right. Skating was not simply about technique, after all. Expression was just as important.

Once the music started – an otherworldly orchestral arrangement accompanying an angelic voice of a young child, ringing clearly through the rink – it was easier to channel his emotions. He wasn’t sure what those people wanted from him, but if he had to give his own interpretation of unconditional love…

He thought of his mom and his dad and Mari – how they had always been there for him as he grew up, and how he wished to repay them tenfold as long as he lived.

He thought of Phichit – how Phichit had always been able to cheer him up even in his lowest moments, and how, in return, he was willing to go along with Phichit’s plans, even the craziest ones.

He thought of Victor – how Victor was the warmth that he never knew he needed, like a ray of light that came to him in the dreary darkness, and how, if Victor was ever better off without him, even if it hurt, he would…

The music stopped.

Yuuri finished with his ending pose – hands clasps together in a prayer, arms reaching skywards, gaze directed towards the heavens, invoking divine strength.

He was by no means a selfless angel, but he thinks he knows agape.

After a moment, he finally relaxed his stance and turned. To stunned silence.

His coach and rinkmates were staring at him like he was a stranger to them, like everyone in this dream had been doing all day.

Mila was the first to break it. She shook her head. “What’s gotten into you today?” she asked again, but with a fond smile this time.

Yuuri noticed that there was a new addition to his audience – a tall, almost gaunt woman, with dark hair in a bun, standing next to Yakov. She must have arrived while Yuuri was skating, and must be, he assumed, the terrifying Lilia that Mila had spoken of.

Surprisingly enough, she looked, dare he say, impressed.

Yuuri expected the eloquent Georgi to offer more words of wisdom, since it was his idea to try skating with music in the first place, but he was being unusually quiet… wait, was he _crying_?

Well, Yuuri guessed that meant he did a decent job?

He then turned his pleading eyes towards his coach. Even though Yuuri was known for his considerable stamina, he _really_ wanted to call it a day, and he had a feeling that he could not leave without Yakov’s say-so.

“Oh no, young one,” Yakov must have read his mind. “You nailed the feeling, but your quads are still horrendous! Let’s go through them again. From the top!”

Yuuri felt himself slump onto the ice in defeat.

He really just wanted to wake up already.

  


	5. Kill Me Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> littlepurinsesu: I apologise for taking so long to get this chapter out! D: Uni and life always seem to get in the way of writing, but I am determined to get back into the swing of things, so hopefully the next updates won't have such ridiculous gaps in between! To anyone who may have been waiting, thank you for your patience and understanding <3 I hope this update doesn't disappoint!  
> We've seen how Yuuri's first "dream" unfolded, and now it's time to join Yurio as his nightmarish adventures begin! O.<

Yuri was squinting. Really hard.

But there was no difference.

_Why the fuck is everything so blurry?_

Was it too early in the morning? Did he not get enough rest? Or was he just taking longer than usual to fully emerge from the grogginess of sleep?

His vision was cloudy, but he could still tell that he had rolled out of an unfamiliar bed this morning and was currently pacing about an alien room. And needless to say, he was trying very hard not to freak out, because this all felt like the perfect set-up for a nightmare. One of those nightmares where a person gets abducted and forced into living a strange new life in a strange new place. Sometimes even as a strange new person.

The door opened, and Yuri almost jumped out of his skin.

“What’s taking you so long?” The lazy voice that greeted him was definitely female, yet no matter how hard Yuri squinted at her, he could not recall ever inviting this woman—or, in fact, any woman—into his house. Heck, was this even his house? His grandfather was supposed to be out of town visiting a friend, so it’s not like he had anyone to ask.

“Where the fuck am I? And who the fuck are you?” he demanded, but his voice came out a lot shakier than he had intended, and that couldn’t be good. One should never show their weakness, especially to potential kidnappers that might have snatched him from the comfort of his home the night before and—

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yuri’s mind came to a screeching halt when the woman responded with a tone he was too accustomed to using himself. “Hurry up and come eat breakfast. Mom’s waiting for you so she can clear the table,” she said casually before strolling away.

“Huh?” Yuri stayed rooted to the spot and listened to her footsteps retreating slowly, before squinting around the room once more.

He could just barely make out the neat desk adjacent to the plain bed, the hideous piggy bank perched in the corner, and the multitude of pictures covering the plain walls. Carefully approaching one, Yuri took in the sight of a tall silver-haired man wearing the world’s goofiest grin, arms wrapped tightly around a smaller, bespectacled young man with a head of black hair and a very shy and nervous smile.

He squinted for possibly the hundredth time since he woke up this morning, but this time, it was not because the picture was blurry.

It was because the two people in the picture looked beyond stupid.

The heart-shaped smile of the taller man was enough to make Yuri’s eye twitch, yet there was something about the man who was being embraced from behind that annoyed Yuri. These two were clearly in a romantic relationship, and it was obviously a happy one. So why did the dark-haired man look so… anxious? Doubtful? Insecure? What was the word he was looking for?

This was only one of his many questions, though, as Yuri finally peeled himself away from the photo and hesitantly made his way into what he guessed was the dining room.

A plump, kindly woman served him a strange dish of rice and fried pork. Across from him, a jolly man sat reading the morning newspaper, and what could only be the young woman from before leaned casually against the wall, smoking.

The chopsticks in his hands refused to function the way he wanted, so Yuri resorted to shoveling the food into his mouth by using them as a very thin spoon instead. Not that he had much time to think about his utensils, because this food was one of the most divine things he had ever tasted in all seventeen years of his life.

The woman who served him was so warm and so comforting, and together with the delicious food and the easygoing, familial atmosphere of the room, Yuri felt that he could just about melt into a blissful slumber right then and there. A confused slumber, definitely, but blissful, nonetheless.

Perhaps this was what it felt like to have a family… Not that he and his grandfather weren’t a family, but there was something very different about the way the older woman gazed affectionately at him wolfing down his breakfast, the calming rustle of the old man turning the page every few minutes, or the languid words of the woman from before, chatting idly to her mother while refilling his cup with hot tea.

He had just finished slowly licking the last morsel of egg from his chopsticks when the plump woman’s loving voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to be late. Are you forgetting that your Monday class is a morning one?”

_Don’t all high school classes start in the morning?_

Either way, one glance at the clock on the wall told him that he was going to be majorly late if he did not leave at this very moment.

Yuri scrambled to his feet, quietly thanked the mother for breakfast, and headed for the door. He was just wondering if he should bid an awkward goodbye to the smiling trio seeing him off when he saw something flash in his peripheral vision.

A small mirror hanging on the wall. Not enough to reflect an entire body from head to toe, but enough for him to make out a dark-haired young man staring back at him.

_Huh?_

An unfamiliar face, yet somehow kind of familiar…

It took conscious effort, but he managed to unfurrow his eyebrows and wipe the unimpressed look of confusion from his face. Hesitantly, he schooled his features into one of anxiety. Self-doubt? Or was it plain insecurity?

_“Huhhh?!”_

Yuri almost doubled over in shock and disgust. That’s right. The warm and fuzzy atmosphere from before had only been the prelude, and now the real nightmare was finally starting to kick in.

Yet on top of that, he had finally found his answer. The bespectacled man in the photo had looked worse than anxious or doubtful or insecure or whatever. He had looked like a fucking _coward_.

And worst of all, somehow, _he was that coward_.

 

 

Yuri internally cursed himself for having been naïve enough to believe that this strange nightmare could have actually been “not that bad.” A quick look through his phone had informed him of the name of his school—why was he dreaming of himself as a university student majoring in English Literature?—and the location of the campus. All thanks to the coward of a character he was playing, who kept his Internet browser homepage as his school’s website. Seriously, who even does that? Not only was he a coward, but he was a nerd, too. Why couldn’t he have been cast as someone actually cool, like Otabek? Heck, he’d even rather be JJ than… whatever _this_ was.

And after navigating the streets of what turned out to be some rural town in Japan and successfully arriving at the campus, Yuri now stood awkwardly in front of the closed door of a lecture hall. He had slowly adjusted to seeing the world through a permanent layer of haze, but it was still a miracle that he had managed to arrive in one piece. (Where the fuck did the blind coward put his fucking glasses?)

As such, it turned out that his morning class had been replaced by some kind of seminar with some hotshot guest speaker. Yuri could hear his boisterous, overly-confident voice ringing out through the microphone from inside, and without a second thought, he wrenched open the heavy wooden door and marched into the hall.

Though if he had known that he would be emerging at the very front of the room, he might have made his late entrance a little more discreet.

Yuri scanned the rows upon rows of bored-looking students, most of them slightly amused by his sudden and very rude arrival. He caught sight of a boy making strange, animated gestures in an attempt to gain his attention. The boy had tanned skin and a friendly, welcoming look in his big eyes, and he pointed quietly to the empty seat beside him. There were two more people in the row: a small boy with light freckles across his pale cheeks and a sweater with a teddy bear design, and a laid-back young man with earphones dangling around his neck and brown hair around Yuri’s usual length in the real world. They looked nice enough, but why did they seem like they knew him? Why were there no people he knew from real life featured in this god-forsaken nightmare? Where was Otabek and his calming presence? Where was fucking JJ and his obnoxious “Yuri-chan” greeting?

Yuri made no effort to hide the scowl on his face as he strode by the stunned guest speaker, marching up the stairs to make for the back of the lecture hall. He did not miss the look of confusion on the tanned boy’s face or the way he whispered his name when he ignored the seat that was apparently saved for him.

The guest speaker had finally picked up from the awkward silence and resumed his animated talking by the time Yuri flopped down in an empty seat in the very last row. He leaned his chair back and kicked his feet onto the table in front of him, placing his hands behind his head. The tanned boy kept glancing back at him with concern every few minutes before turning to whisper to Teddy Guy and Earphones Guy.

Where were the motherfucking zombies and witches and monsters? If this was a nightmare, it should at least make itself an interesting and badass one! Yuri would much rather meet his demise in dreamland by being impaled by a ghost knight’s spear or shot to death by a mafia boss. Anything would be better than suffering from awkwardness while still having no fucking clue how he had become a coward of a Japanese man sitting in a crowded hall listening to a loser’s lecture about what turned out to be family relationships.

What this had to do with his apparent major in English literature was beyond Yuri’s comprehension, yet one quick glance at the current slide on the big screen was enough to confirm one thing for Yuri: he didn’t give a fuck about this presentation or whatever the hell it was.

Instead, he opened his backpack and found a pencil case, a spiral notebook, a wallet, keys, an empty glasses case, and some tissues.

_Boring._

Yuri grabbed a random pen and pulled out the notebook. Inside were pages and pages of neat, color-coded notes—sub-headings, dot points, citations, you name it. Yuri flipped the pages, reading a few words or phrases at random. Shakespeare, Milton, Chaucer… Seriously, how boring could this idiot’s life get?

Frustrated, Yuri flipped to the next blank page, removed the lid of the pen in his hand, and scrawled onto the paper, in big angry letters, “Who the hell are you?”

“Ah, I don’t recall saying you needed to take notes during my lecture, but I’m glad to see that you’re so enthusiastic!”

“Huh?” Yuri froze, his pen still holding the dot on his question mark. He raised his head to meet the smiling face of the guest speaker, who had somehow managed to talk while heading up the stairs to reach Yuri’s seat without him realizing.

His microphone was still held to his lips, and Yuri considered the need to force a flat apology—until he saw the displeasure and glint of spite in his brown eyes. “I was just asking a few students to share their final thoughts on the content of my presentation, and since you look like you have enough opinions to jot them down in your notebook, why don’t you share some of them with the rest of us?” The sarcasm in his voice was amplified by the microphone as it reverberated off the walls.

Yuri clenched his fist under the table, trying desperately to keep his cool and to stop himself from throwing his pen in the pretentious man’s face.

“May I ask what your name is, young man?” the speaker inquired, perhaps a little too politely, once it became clear that Yuri was not going to answer his question.

Yuri paused. It was just a nightmare; he had nothing to lose. “Yuri,” he managed to mutter without raising his voice like he normally would.

“Yuri who?”

“How many Yuris do you know?” Yuri snapped, dropping the pen onto the notebook, perhaps with a little more force than intended. Alright, fine, he had practically thrown the pen, but with the phony smile on the middle-aged man’s face and all the terrified stares he was receiving, Yuri thought it was justified enough. It was a miracle that he hadn’t kicked the man in the face by now. If only he had his knife shoes with him.

“Well, Yuri. I’m sure the opinions of students who express disinterest are equally thought-provoking to the rest of us here. After all, it is my policy to be inclusive of all students, regardless of their background or attitude towards their own education,” the man explained good-naturedly, still not budging from his spot beside Yuri’s seat.

_Why won’t he just leave already?_

Yuri straightened in his seat, the fury boiling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like him to keep his anger bottled up. Seventeen years of life experience had taught him that letting it out in spontaneous bouts of rage or mild violence worked the best to alleviate his irritation. Trying to keep his temper in check in front of such a large crowd was almost like hypnotizing himself into behaving like a different person. Which he technically was right now, anyway.

“How about I give you a few open-ended questions to help you organize your thoughts a little better?” The guest speaker paused for dramatic effect before continuing, “Hmm… let’s see… Why don’t you tell us your opinion on the importance of maintaining healthy and functioning family relationships? And what is your idea of a perfect, ideal family?”

Yuri felt his insides turn to ice. It was like he had broken into a cold sweat, his insides churning in a way that made him struggle to keep his breakfast down.

_Breakfast…_

And suddenly, memories from only hours ago, yet what felt like years, came flooding back. The casual expression of the young woman who had checked in on him to make sure he was okay, the relaxed man who had shown him a funny comic in the newspaper, and the tenderness and affection of the plump woman who had seemed like a mother to him. The feelings that bubbled up in his heart had been so soothing and so heartwarming that Yuri almost forgot about the frosty, quiet Russian mornings with only his grandfather to keep him company…

“Well, well. I believe I’ve put our Yuri here in a rather difficult spot.”

The awkward laughter and obnoxious voice booming through the microphone alerted Yuri to the present reality. “Perhaps I’ve touched on a rather sensitive topic that brings up some unpleasant memories for our Yuri. My most sincere apologies. However, it is common courtesy to at least arrive on time and pay attention to a formal lecture, especially when your school has invited such a well-known guest.” His voice was nasal and grating and Yuri felt his hands clenching around the spiral part of the notebook.

The man then pivoted on his spot, preparing to head back down the stairs in search of his next target for active participation. But he was abruptly stopped when a notebook was flung into the back of his head. It bounced back and landed on the floor with a _thud_ , and Yuri had never felt such a complex mixture of wrath and satisfaction.

“Excuse me?”

“No, excuse _me_ ,” yelled Yuri, not even bothering to decipher the expression on the man’s face. “Who the fuck do you think you are to make assumptions about me and my private life? Fuck you. You really think you’re that amazing? I wonder how the fuck you managed to get that reputation when all you do is spew bullshit while trying to sound all high and mighty. The fuck is your problem? One student walks in late and doesn’t think you or your lecture is all that mind-blowing? Suck it up and get the fuck over yourself, because you’re a crap speaker and a shitty lecturer and no one gives a flying fuck about anything you have to say.”

After he felt that he had released all of the pent-up frustration and anger accumulated in the past hour or so, Yuri stopped his assault on the gaping man. He bent to retrieve the fallen notebook from the ground, shoved it into his bag, and zipped it up noisily.

When he turned to throw one last vicious glare at the speaker, Yuri caught a glimpse of the tanned boy holding up something green—wait, was that a phone and was he recording him?—but he was so eager to leave that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Yuri slung his backpack over one shoulder and gave his empty chair an audible kick for good measure, satisfied at the shrill scraping noise it made on the polished floor. He then shoved past the flabbergasted guest speaker to make for the back door, hurling it open and storming out before slamming it shut behind him with a thunderous _bang_.

 

 

If there was one familiar thing that Yuri could grasp in this rotten nightmare, it would be the fact that this Japanese coward was apparently a skater, too.

But things just _weren’t the same_.

The rink was bare and shabby-looking, the room was constantly bathed in a dull haze because there weren’t enough goddamn windows, and there was an annoying mother and her set of equally annoying triplets with their eyes glued to his moving form, gasping and cheering every time he landed a jump.

All this, though, Yuri could forgive. Or let slide because this was a nightmare and nightmares were supposed to suck.

“Yuuri! That was amazing! I feel like I’m falling in love with you all over again!”

But _that_? No. Just no.

The shadows of regret and shame at his behaviour in the seminar this morning were only just starting to sink in, and Yuri would really be better off without a foolish man-child draping his gross octopus arms all over his body at every given opportunity.

Yuri should have known that the idiotic silver-haired lover-boy from the photo would make an appearance. Just to add the finishing touches to this torturous nightmare.

But what was he supposed to do with him? Play along with his lovey-dovey antics? Flirt back? Hug back? Or—it hadn’t happened yet, but Yuri had a terrifying premonition that it would be coming at some point—kiss back? Fuck no. He’d rather die.

“Yuuri, what happened to you? You’ve gotten so confident in your skating all of a sudden and your technique is on point! It’s like you became a proud ice prince overnight rather than the awkward, bumbling skater you usually are! I can barely recognize you!”

_Wow, talk about being blunt, man._

Yuri isn’t sure whether he should feel insulted or flattered. That superb skating was all Yuri Plisetsky’s doing, and the person being roasted was obviously the Japanese coward… but he _was_ the Japanese coward right now. What even was reality anymore?

Yet somehow, Yuri was pleasantly surprised to find that lover-boy, apparently named Victor, was actually a pretty amazing skater. His jaw had almost dropped when Victor demonstrated the step sequence and final jump at the beginning of the practice session. Flawless execution. Magnificent poise. Perfect landing. The world may be a blur to Yuri right now, but he knew a talented skater when he saw one.

He might have changed his opinion and even come to respect Victor if the fucker hadn’t ended the program by winking in his direction.

“But speaking of eros,” Victor’s nonchalant voice continued, dragging Yuri back into the present, “you seem to have somehow gotten a hang of the confidence and greed needed to portray sexual love today. Yet for some reason, your maturity level has dropped and you’ve lost the natural charm and sex appeal you were starting to master.”

Yuri felt both of his eyes twitch dangerously, but before he could roll them enough to see the back of his own head, Victor had suddenly snaked his arm around his waist and pulled his body closer to his bigger one.

Yuri yelped in surprise as he felt every strand of hair on his body stand upright.

But he was even more surprised when Victor immediately let go. “Yuuri? Are you okay?”

After taking a few seconds to recover from the traumatic experience, Yuri smacked Victor’s hovering arm away and almost hissed at him. “Goddamnit, will you stop touching me? You’ve been at it for the entire practice session! It’s distracting and annoying and disgusting! Seriously, would it kill you to keep your ugly hands to yourself for a few fucking hours?”

What followed was stunned silence, during which Yuri heard the mother quietly shuffle out of the rink with her daughters in tow.

Had he gone too far? Was he sabotaging the Japanese dude’s relationship with lover-boy?

No, none of this was even real to begin with! What did he have to lose?

Yuri balled his hands into fists, dreading the moment when Victor would either break down into tears or retaliate and yell back at him to start a lovers’ quarrel. He really did not have the energy for that.

So he watched on wordlessly, holding his breath, as Victor’s blue eyes stared into his own. Yuri felt vulnerable and naked under his intense gaze, almost like the older man could look right into him and see the deepest and darkest depths of his soul.

But this was only a nightmare, and just as he had nothing to lose, he had nothing to hide, either. Yuri stood his ground and held Victor’s gaze steadily, completely losing track of time with how tense his whole body was and how quickly his mind was racing.

Victor then gingerly lifted a hand, moving to place it on Yuri’s cheek. His movements were slow and calculated, and right as his hand made contact with the younger boy’s skin, Victor leaned in ever so slightly.

As if on instinct, Yuri screamed and pushed him away.

Victor managed to catch himself from toppling backwards, and just when Yuri was about to question why they were having such an extreme yet pointless staredown, Victor did the unthinkable.

The tall, attractive man slid to the floor, slumping on his side as he let out the most melodramatic moan Yuri had ever heard.

“My dear Yuuri… You have wounded me! And I don’t know if I will ever recover…”

_… What the actual fuck?_

Victor tilted his head to peek up at the frozen boy. “But I’ll forgive everything you just said if you kiss me better!”

And there it was. The impending doom of a kiss. Hell to the no.

Yuri practically fled the ice, ignoring the heap of limbs behind him, and made to pack his belongings.

“Yuuri, wait! Are you ignoring me?”

He packed his skates away and hastily zipped up his backpack.

“Yuuri! Why are you ignoring me? Don’t leave me here!” Victor’s pathetic whining could be heard even as Yuri turned his back on him and headed for the door.

“Leave me alone! I just wanna go home!” Yuri hollered back over his shoulder.

“Go home? Are you not feeling well?” He turned to see Victor reorganizing himself into a standing human being, dusting off the ice from his wet pants. “Wait for me!”

The younger man stiffened. “Huh?”

“Yeah, wait for me and we’ll go home together! I always come home with you after our Monday practice sessions!” Victor answered chirpily, already stepping off the ice.

Home? Was it his home or Victor’s home? Was his home Victor’s home? Was this Japanese guy’s home his home now?

_Home…_

Just how long was this fucking nightmare going to last? Yuri was tired, confused, and more than a little pissed off. Clearly the evil sorcerers and fire-breathing dragons weren’t going to make an appearance, and he had wasted an entire day masquerading in the awkward body of a complete loser, suffering rude lecturers and disgusting boyfriends. He’d almost been kissed by the balding idiot, too!

“Fuck this shit!!!”

Yuri stomped his foot hard on the ground and turned on his heel, ignoring Victor’s perplexed expression as he stormed out the door alone.

Nightmares usually ended at the moment of the protagonist’s imminent death, yet no matter where Yuri looked or how hard he squinted into the distance, there was no sign of any mutated animal or psychopathic murderer here to end his misery.

“Fucking kill me now!!!” he bellowed at the grey sky.

He was met with nothing but silence. Silence, and the sound of his own voice as a stream of curses left his mouth.


End file.
